So we repress it. Stay careful and cautious, like Mom says. Avoid conflict. Play on the safe grass. We do exactly as we’re told. But we live in tension, in growing frustration—something inside us wants out. It wants to be unleashed; we keep building the fence higher. We avoid the inner conflict and grind our teeth, or sweat through our sheets. We live with displaced anger and confusion. We are not who we were born to be. Inside, we feel soft. Passive. We live under Mom’s control instead of our wildness.
